


The Art of Asking

by WordsInTimeAndSpace



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsInTimeAndSpace/pseuds/WordsInTimeAndSpace
Summary: A cold winter day leaves Crowley longing for Aziraphale’s touch, and he finally learns to ask for what he wants.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	The Art of Asking

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for joi-in-the-tardis, because they are a lovely person and deserve all the good things. <3

Winter had swept over London, leaving cold and rain in its wake, and Crowley was miserable. He hated all of it: how the cold crept into his bones and refused to leave until spring, how the constant drizzle made everything feel damp at all times, how the low hanging clouds blocked out the sun for days on end. Sometimes the rain would freeze, and that was even worse, although he did get a smidge of demonic satisfaction whenever London’s public transport system collapsed with just the smallest amount of snow and ice. But otherwise, everything was awful.

Well. At least in theory. That was how it had been, for so many decades, centuries, since they had settled in London. Crowley had to admit that now, after the armageddon that wasn’t, things weren’t too bad. But it was hard to give up old grudges. He still hated the winter on principle.

Warm air greeted him as soon as he pushed open the door to the bookshop. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the cold still clinging to his bones. No matter how cold the rest of London was, the bookshop was always warm and welcoming. Now that he could be here whenever he wanted, this time of the year had become much more bearable.

He made his way through the bookshelves into the back, drawn by Aziraphale’s aura like a moth to the flame. He found him sitting at his desk, glasses perched on his nose, carefully flipping through an antique book that looked like it might crumble into dust any moment. It was such a comforting, familiar sight that Crowley immediately felt better.

“Hello, angel.”

Aziraphale looked up in surprise. His lips curled into a radiant smile as soon as his eyes fell on Crowley.

“Oh, hello my dear. Have I forgotten the time again? I’m terribly sorry.“

“No, no,” Crowley reassured him quickly. “It’s fine. I’m early. I just wanted to come over.”

He didn’t say what he really meant: that he just wanted to see Aziraphale, wanted to see his smile and bask in the warmth of it and enjoy the fire in the hearth until he forgot that winter was actually a thing that was happening behind these walls. He didn’t say any of this, but Aziraphale’s face softened in response, and Crowley suspected that he heard it anyway.

“Of course, my dear. Make yourself comfortable. Do you mind if I finish this up really quick?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Aziraphale gave him another one of his smiles, one so full of fondness it made Crowley’s heart do a funny little flip in his chest. He sauntered off into the back of the bookshop, leaving the angel to do his work. He returned just a moment later with a cup of tea - no sugar and miracled exactly to Aziraphale’s favourite drinking temperature - and set it down on the desk before collapsing on the couch.

“Oh, thank you, dear boy,” Aziraphale gasped, and Crowley could hear the smile in his voice now, even without looking. He allowed himself a smile as well as he took off his glasses and propped up his feet on the arm rest.

“It’s just tea, angel,” Crowley mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut. He heard the rustle of clothes as Aziraphale turned back to the desk, heard him let out a content hum after the first sip of tea, heard the crinkling of paper and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. He would never say it out loud because it made him sound like a lovesick fool, but he enjoyed these quiet moments of intimacy that had slipped into their lives after the almost-apocalypse. Just being so close to Aziraphale that he could hear all the little sounds he made, that he could smell the familiar scent of his cologne wafting through the air, was more than he could ever wish for. It was good. It was enough. It had to be.

He hadn’t planned to actually fall asleep, but he did at some point. When he opened his eyes again the world behind the windows was dark and the desk was empty. Crowley blinked, disoriented for a moment, and craned his neck to look around without actually having to move. To his surprise, he was covered with a knitted blanket. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, but the beige and blue tartan made it very clear where it had come from. He should hate it, Crowley thought, or at least pretend to, but he couldn’t. Crowley ran his fingers over the stitches, tracing the pattern and marvelling in the softness of it. It smelled like Aziraphale, and it was a pleasant weight on his chest, and if he closed his eyes again maybe he could pretend that it actually was the angel draped over him-

Crowley shook his head, trying to banish the thought from his mind before it could fully form into something more dangerous. But it was already too late. It had already sent a flash of longing through him that shook him to his core. It was a craving he had harboured for 6000 years now, one that he tried to suppress at all times, for his own sanity. But sometimes, in moments like this one, his control slipped and all these feelings, all these wants, rose to the surface. His heart ached with it, his skin itched for touch, and Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long, pained groan.

Immediately, footsteps were approaching.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked as he stepped back into the room, voice full of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Crowley muttered after a moment of silence. He took a deep breath, trying to put all these feelings back where they came from. He knew he failed miserably. But nevertheless, he cranked one eye open. It wouldn’t do to worry Aziraphale over this.

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced, although his shoulders relaxed just slightly as soon as their eyes met. He attempted a smile.

“Make some space for me, please?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley blinked at him. He needed a second to understand what he meant, and then he scrambled to sit up to make space for Aziraphale on the other half of the couch. Crowley pulled the blanket tightly around him, choosing to ignore the twinkling in Aziraphale’s eyes as he did so. The angel sat down. Right beside him. Not in the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table, like he usually did, but close. So close Crowley could touch him if he wanted to. And oh, how much he wanted to. His fingers trembled and he clutched the blanket a little tighter.

“Thank you, my love,” Aziraphale smiled, and that was the thing that broke him. Without thinking about the consequences for once, Crowley flopped back down, his head landing right in the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale let out a surprised gasp that washed over Crowley like a bucket full of cold water. Shit. Too much, too fast, of course it was, and he was a bloody idiot for trying, for pushing, for thinking that maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale would want the same thing he did-

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s voice broke through his panic. He had barely noticed that he was struggling to get up until Aziraphale rested a hand on his chest, gently holding him in place. Crowley went still under him, not even daring to breathe. He couldn’t meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Relax, my darling,” Aziraphale said softly. “It’s all right.”

“Is it?” Crowley croaked.

“Yes, of course. I must say,” Aziraphale started, and the humour in his voice finally made Crowley look up, “you do fit quite nicely into my lap.” 

“Ngk.” A low, strangled sound escaped his throat as heat rushed to his cheeks. Crowley curled into himself as much as the cramped couch allowed, but he finally relaxed, letting the tension flow out of his body until he was limp and comfortable. Aziraphale gently smiled down at him.

"There, that's better," he said, and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat as Aziraphale cupped the side of his face, his fingers gently brushing over Crowley’s cheek. He couldn’t stop the shiver that went through his body. The angel’s skin was so warm, everywhere they touched, chasing away the last traces of coldness he had brought in from outside. But instead of satisfying this craving that had awakened within him, it just seemed to fuel the fire. More, Crowley thought, he needed more. More warmth, more touch, more Aziraphale. Their bodies so close until it was hard to say where he ended and Aziraphale began, like two stars orbiting so close they appeared as one to the naked eye. Just like Alpha Centauri - but oh, Aziraphale had said no to that, and surely Aziraphale would say no to this as well, if Crowley ever dared to ask. Something ached in his chest, making it hard to breathe. It must have shown on his face because Aziraphale’s smile dissolved into a frown. Crowley silently cursed his lack of sunglasses.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began and oh, the unhappiness in his voice nearly tore Crowley’s heart in two, “whatever is the matter, dearest?”

“It’s fine,” Crowley choked out.

Aziraphale stilled his fingers. “Do you… not like it when I touch you like this?” he asked hesitantly.

“No!” Crowley rushed out. “I mean yes, I do like it. It’s not that. Please don’t stop.” He hated how close to begging he sounded, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. Relief washed over his face.

“Oh. Oh, Crowley, I’m glad.” With a smile, he continued his ministrations, stroking over Crowley’s cheeks before burying his fingers in his hair. Another shudder ran through Crowley, from the base of his skull down to his toes. His eyes slipped shut.

“What is it, then?” Aziraphale asked gently. “You can tell me when there’s something bothering you.”

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat. The urge to run and hide was nearly overpowering, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Aziraphale’s side right at this moment. “It’s nothing,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as miserable as he felt.

“It clearly is not nothing. What do you want, Crowley? What do you need?”

“I-” Crowley cut himself off. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Asking questions had never brought him anything but trouble. He knew Aziraphale was different, would never cast him out for asking, would never cut him off from his warmth like She had done so many years ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it nevertheless.

“It would make me happy, to know what you need and give it to you,” Aziraphale said softly, and well, fuck, now the angel was just playing dirty. As if he didn’t know exactly that Crowley would do everything in his power to make him the happiest angel in the whole galaxy.

Aziraphale patiently waited for him to speak, gently stroking Crowley’s hair. “More,” Crowley finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“... more?”

“Yes. More. Like thisss,” he hissed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and bury his face in the crook of his neck before his common sense could kick in. He braced himself for rejection, but it never came. Instead, Aziraphale’s arms were around him just an instant later, pulling him further into his lap and holding him close.

“There,” Aziraphale murmured, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s hair. “You did so well, my love. Thank you for telling me. That was very brave.”

Crowley let out an undignified sound he would forever deny making. The praise ran through him like a wave, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He squeezed his eyes closed against the tears burning in the corners of his eyes. Aziraphale drew slow, soothing circles onto his back and finally Crowley calmed down. The trembling stopped. He didn’t feel like he would fall apart any second now. Instead, he took a deep breath, taking in Aziraphale’s scent, and marvelled at the warmth surrounding him.

“Thanks,” he eventually said, his voice hoarse. Aziraphale tightened his grip around him.

“Of course, darling. And please don’t think I’m doing this just to indulge you. I love having you close like this. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for this.”

Crowley sniffled. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t think you would be so touchy-feely. You never were before. Not like this, anyway.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said quietly after a long moment of silence. “And I apologize. But we couldn't really, could we? Before?”

“Guess not.”

“But,” Aziraphale said pointedly, and added another kiss to the top of Crowley’s head, “now that we can do as we please, I intend to make up for lost time. I might not let you out of my arms for a week now.”

Crowley let out a laugh. “Be careful with your promises, angel. You’ll get sick of me in the end.”

“Oh, I could _never_.”

The conviction in his voice made Crowley’s heart soar. Finally, he managed to raise his head to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. There was nothing but love and happiness there, and it was the last bit of encouragement Crowley needed to utter the next question.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, fingers clutching nervously at the angel’s waistcoat. Aziraphale beamed in response.

“Please do, my love,” he said softly. Crowley’s lips curled into a grin, one that Aziraphale answered in equal measures, just before their lips finally met in the middle. It was soft and sweet and chaste, and so much better than Crowley ever could have imagined.

He stayed close when he pulled back, his lips hovering just over Aziraphale's. For a moment, they just enjoyed each other’s closeness. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Aziraphale eventually said, nudging his nose against Crowley’s. “To ask?”

Crowley let out an exaggerated sigh even as he nuzzled closer into Aziraphale’s embrace. “It was _agony_ , angel.”

“My poor darling,” Aziraphale cood, peppering kisses to Crowley’s cheek, and then the other one, before moving back to his lips. He cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, gently but firmly holding him in place. Aziraphale’s lips quirked into a smile. It was the kind of smile that made it very clear what a bastard Aziraphale could be if he wanted to. The kind of smile that left Crowley breathless and sent a rush of heat through him.

“I will make sure it was worth it,” Aziraphale said, his voice low and smooth, before he pressed his lips back down to Crowley’s.


End file.
